To Torchwood, With Love
by EmyPink
Summary: While investigating the deaths of some of Cardiff’s homeless population, an undercover Ianto is abducted. But by whom? And what do they want? Written for the NFA Help Haiti Auction.
1. Chapter 1

**To Torchwood, With Love**

By EmyPink

**Disclaimer:** All names and trademarks recognised as "Torchwood" do not belong to me; I've just borrowed the characters for my own purposes.

**Rating:** T

**Parings:** Jack/Ianto

**Genre:** Drama, Suspense, Slash, Angst

**Warnings:** Swearing, Violence, General TW Spoilers

**Summary: **While investigating the deaths of some of Cardiff's homeless population, an undercover Ianto is abducted. But by whom? And what do they want?

**A/N **Set sometime in season two, but before zombie!Owen. This is Sanna's NFA Help Haiti auction fic which has kinda deviated away from its initial prompt. But she doesn't mind. :) Proper swearing so be warned.

**---**

**Chapter One**

The sun had just risen when Ianto Jones decided that if it weren't for the threat of retcon, he'd demand Jack terminate his position as office boy . . . coffee boy . . . whatever. It was fucking freezing as he leaned against the brick wall, hunched over and smoking a fag that he'd given up years ago. The low-slung jeans and dark red hoodie were doing little to keep him warm and stubble had started to appear on his chin, making his lip curl up in disgust.

Fucking Torchwood, he thought idly as his teeth clenched around the cigarette so that he could try and rub his arms in a very futile attempt to get warm. It should be fucking Owen out here. Or Jack himself.

But Owen, with all his usual politeness and tact, had declined this particular – mission . . . job . . . whatever – citing that as a doctor, he was needed if something went wrong. Thus, Owen had explained with a smirk, he couldn't possibly take on such a _delicate task_. Jack, likewise, had also played the "I'm so important to the functioning of this team" card and Ianto to bite back the snarky reply about who, exactly, fed the team the coffee they seemed to fall apart without.

Ianto had, however, taken comfort in the fact that it was not one of the girls out here instead and that was almost enough to think it worthwhile . . . That and the fact if they could stop whatever was killing Cardiff's homeless, then the police would stop hassling them and cramping Jack's style (his words, not Ianto's). Jack had been moody and irritated lately, thanks to Cardiff's finest, and that led to moody and irritated sex, which then led to an even more moody and irritated Jack, which led to a moody and irritated team, as shown by Tosh's Little IncidentTM.

There was a thump, a bang and the sound of metal hitting pavement. Ianto, rolling his eyes, looked up slowly and was just in time to see a drunk stagger towards him and stumbled over his feet. The man vomited all over Ianto's shoes and then looked up and smiled at Ianto drunkenly.

Yep, Ianto thought bitterly. He was definitely asking Jack to fucking fire him.

---

"How is Cardiff's most gorgeous homeless man this fine morning?" Jack asked cheerfully as he wound down the window of . . . Christ, Jack was now hijacking his car as well. "Coffee?" Jack held out a steaming Styrofoam cup that Ianto knew was from his favourite coffee shop.

Ianto said nothing and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, ignoring the coffee. He bowed his head and continued walking briskly along the footpath, resisting the urge to reach out and throttle Jack then and there (not that it'd do anything besides make his car messy). His car inched along beside him; Jack had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the opened window, clutching the coffee cup.

"Oh come on, Ianto," Jack pouted, flashing him a quick-witted grin. "Don't ignore me. Take the coffee." Jack looked so bright and perky that the thought of throttling him was quickly overthrown by the impulse to run the bastard over.

Multiple times.

With a truck.

"How do you think I am, Jack?" Ianto growled as he walked, finally snatching the coffee from Jack's outstretched hand. Ianto took a long sip, but he didn't stop and neither did the car.

Ianto glared at Jack fiercely and at least Jack had the decency to look a little chastised. "I've spent the past two fucking nights on the street chasing a Bogeyman that doesn't exist!"

Jack winced at Ianto's words and Ianto looked faintly satisfied. Jack knew this wasn't the most ideal situation, but the homeless population of Cardiff wasn't talking and if Torchwood wanted to stop the beast that was killing them, they needed information.

Fast.

"Another body was found last night," Jack told Ianto bluntly after a beat of silence. It was clear that Ianto wasn't in a chatty mood so he might as well move things along. "Over by the docks. Tosh ran his prints and ID'ed him as Jeremy Slater, aged twenty-four."

"Cause of death?" Ianto asked immediately, settling back into the comfortable routine of business. He took a sip from his coffee and sighed deeply, inhaling its scent. It was exactly how he took it and he wondered whether that was Jack's doing or Franco the barista's doing.

Jack watched Ianto fondly as he savoured the cup of coffee, but then Ianto caught him doing just that and frowned. Jack smirked and winked suggestively, pressing on with a, "Deep gash to the carotid artery; he would have bleed out in minutes."

"Is Owen sure it's not of human or Weevil origin?" Ianto asked, just to make sure Owen hadn't got something wrong in his probably drunken autopsy state.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Weevils tend to go for the jugular and the wounds look different. And there's no way the gash was made by a knife or anything. Humans, as far as I know, don't have sharp, death bringing claws."

Ianto sighed. "Fucking fantastic." He looked at Jack and practically whined, but with much more class than you'd think possible, "How long do I stay out here?" He tugged the sleeve of his hoodie distastefully. "It's disgusting. I haven't had a shower since I took his bloody role and I haven't shaved in three days. I'm pretty sure I left the grunge look back in the 90s."

Jack eyed Ianto up and down, grinning lasciviously. "I like it. I can see the bad-boy thing working for you." He licked his lips. "You know," he started, looking at the clock in the car, "I do have fifteen minutes before . . . and I do like this whole bad-boy look you've got going on . . ."

"I'm not a prostitute, Jack," Ianto scowled indignantly as he stopped abruptly. Jack did too. Ianto tossed the empty coffee cup into a rubbish bin, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed. "I never said you were!"

"I bloody feel like one," Ianto muttered darkly, glaring at Jack who was trying not to smirk. "I had a drunken bastard try and pick me up last night." He frowned when he saw Jack trying not to laugh. "He got grabby."

Well, okay, it wasn't exactly grabby – more like one drunken attempt to grab his wrist which failed spectacularly – but the grin immediately fell from Jack's face and Ianto tried not to look smug. So it was a little mean playing on Jack's protectiveness like that, but he'd theoretically started it when Jack had sent Ianto on this mission in the first place.

"I can pull you out, you know," Jack offered, looking concerned. "If you're uncomfortable with this, you can get in the car right now and I can take you home. No questions asked." Worry lines creased Jack's immortal forehead and he reached out to brush his thumb over Ianto's knuckles.

Ianto cursed himself; now he felt guilty about worrying Jack when it was Jack's fault in the first place. It wasn't as though he was _completely _out of his depth here on the streets . . . He'd never actually lived on the streets, but he'd hung around on them and with people who had when he was younger.

He gave Jack a soft smile and quickly poked his head into the window of his car to give Jack a chaste kiss on the lips. Jack blinked dumbly as Ianto pulled away; besides their one or two sporadic dates, Ianto had never been one for showing much affection in public . . . especially out in the open like this.

"I'll be fine, Jack," Ianto assured him as he straightened the bottom of his hoodie. He thought about asking Jack to bring some new clothes next time; if anyone asked he could say that he'd lifted them . . . that _was _something Ianto had done in the past.

"Really," Ianto said when Jack gave him a worried look. "I'm not a child, Jack. I can hold my own."

"I know," Jack murmured, but didn't look any less worried. Ianto really hated himself now; it felt as though he'd kicked a puppy. "I just don't want anything happening to you."

"Nothing's going to happen," Ianto said firmly, leaning in for a second surprising kiss on the lips. He reached into his hoodie and pulled out a small black device with a red button on it that looked not unlike an elderly Vitacall necklace. "I have this God awful thing Tosh gave me, remember. If I get in trouble, I press the button and it sets off all the best alarms in the Hub and feeds you the coordinates of my location."

Jack nodded slightly, paused and then nodded again firmly. "You're right." He smiled trustingly at Ianto and then gave him a wink. "And I definitely know you can hold your own. I did teach you weaponry, after all." Jack smirked suggestively and Ianto blushed faintly. It had taken twice as long to learn weaponry thanks to Jack's . . . unique . . . teaching style.

"Do you . . ." Jack asked hesitantly and Ianto nodded, reaching up to lift the bottom of his hoodie. It was probably not the smartest idea, carrying while being a homeless person, but Jack was not about to let Ianto go out onto the streets unprotected.

It was a small, but powerful gun that Ianto had tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Jack had picked it, cleaned it and loaded it himself, knowing that by giving Ianto a weapon it would make him a bigger threat to the other homeless people and thus a bigger target. But if it came down to Ianto and whatever creature was attacking the people, Jack knew who he'd want defended.

A phone inside the car rang and cut off whatever Jack was going to say next. He swiped the phone off the passenger seat, glanced at the caller ID, picked up the call and brought it to his ear. "Gwen?"

Ianto waited patiently as Jack spoke low and quietly to Gwen. He gazed upwards at the clear blue sky; the sun was out though it was still chilly. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, and looked back at Jack just as the other man was disconnecting the call. Jack gave Ianto an apologetic grin.

"Sorry," he said. "Duty calls. That was Gwen. Another body's turned up, about fifty metres from the Tourist Information Centre actually." Jack winced and gave Ianto a slightly bitter smile. "Tosh found it as she came back from the morning coffee run. It wasn't pretty."

"Tosh okay?" Ianto asked immediately, concerned for his colleague and friend.

Jack nodded. "It caught her a bit off-guard, but she's okay. Gwen and Owen are fussing over her back at the Hub. I expect she's hating it."

"You'd better go then," Ianto said flatly. He'd almost been ready to take up Jack's offer of a bit of back-alley sex before work. And if he were honest, he felt calmer and more reassured when Jack was around, no matter what he'd said.

"Yeah," Jack echoed, but he didn't look as though he wanted to leave. "You'll be okay?" He reached through the window and grasped Ianto's hand for a moment, slipping something into it.

"Don't worry about me," Ianto replied firmly, plastering a smile on his face and sounding more confident than he felt. "Now go or you'll be late." Ianto stepped away from the car and gave Jack a little wave.

Jack gave Ianto a final, almost longing look before winding up the window, nodding and accelerating away. Ianto watched as the taillights of his beloved car disappeared around the corner, firmly scolding himself that he wasn't about to start pining for Jack. He unclenched his fist and saw that when Jack had reached for him, he'd given Ianto money. Ianto blinked at the money for a moment before looking back to where the car had disappeared around the corner.

Shaking his head with a sigh, Ianto shoved his hands, money and all, into his pockets and walked away.

---

Ianto had just finished the last of his cream bun and second coffee of the morning when he heard the screeching of tires. Thinking it was idiotic teenagers, Ianto thought nothing of it and chucked the remains of his breakfast into the rubbish bin. He was now walking down one of Cardiff's more populated streets, hunched over and looking as though he was a man of the streets.

He did, however, take notice when the screeching tires and the whirl of the high-powered engine got louder before shuddering to a halt. There was only a slight paused before doors opened, slammed and pounding footsteps came up behind him.

Ianto had a very bad feeling.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and willing himself to slow his breathing, Ianto took a deep breath, ignored his pounding heart and turned around with a pleasant smile on his face. Ianto came face to face with the blurred outline of two people and before he could react or draw his gun, they had grabbed him by the shoulders and were pulling him forwards.

As they shoved something against Ianto's mouth and nose, his limbs flailing helplessly, he saw a brief flash of red and then . . . nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **You've probably noticed that the summary to this fic has changed a little bit and that's because I'm going in a different direction now. But it's still essentially the same idea, just better. Enjoy

---

**Chapter Two**

Ianto came to with a loud and undignified groan. His head was pounding and even though wherever he was being held was dank and dark, it still hurt his eyes. Ianto tried to raise an arm to shield his eyes from the unwelcome attention, but miscalculated and slammed his hand against what felt like a stone wall. He winced violently. Now he had a throbbing hand as well as a throbbing head. Wasn't this just wonderful? Never mind being a homeless man, Ianto was now a trapped homeless man. Could it get any worse?

Struggling to sit, Ianto pulled himself up and immediately clutched the side of his head. It felt as though he'd done two rounds with a fucking bus and then decided it would be fun to have a go in Owen's freaking weevil fight club.

Not cool at all.

He forced himself to pull his hand away from his head and was surprised to see that it came away with no blood. Surely a pounding head like that must have come with free head injury or two. But apparently not. Then Ianto remembered that he had not been clubbed over the head, rather drugged and dragged into a car.

Even better.

Not.

At least it wasn't likely Ianto would be bleeding out via his brain, but he wondered if that would have been better. His head had never hurt this much before, and Ianto had been hung-over and had popped a few pills in his time. Neither times had he woken up feeling like this; like his head was on fire and like the slightest noise would completely break it apart.

What the fuck was going on?

Taking a deep breath, Ianto dragged himself to his feet but immediately doubled over, gasping. Vertigo, nausea and a pounding headache all rolled into one and Ianto decided that it might be a very good time to pass out again. But, instead, slowly his double vision cleared and his breakfast seemed to settle back in his stomach. It would have been too much to ask for the pounding headache to go away, though.

Ianto stumbled as he tried to take a step forward. He reached out and braced himself against the wall, only to put pressure on his sore hand. Ianto yelped, pulled his hand away and again found himself in a crumpled heap on the floor.

He was so not James Bond.

Giving himself a moment to regain his breath, Ianto slowly got to his feet. His head wasn't as bad this time and Ianto had learnt his lesson about his hand from before. Staggering over to the prison-like bars, Ianto glanced around. He was in some kind of small, dark cell that had stone walls and thick metal bars across the opening. Dully, Ianto realised that he was standing at the front of a sophisticated prison cell and where there were cells, there were usually bad guys.

Yep, Ianto thought. He was completely fucked.

---

"How are we going on those pretty little lights over Splott last night?" Jack asked, walking into the area that held their workstations. "And where are we on the dead homeless?" Jack crossed his arms and frowned. "I just had the Inspector on the phone . . . again. And where's Ianto when you need him? I'm _dying_ for a coffee."

Tosh glanced at him sympathetically and replied, "I traced the lights back to a travelling spaceship that thought it might be nice to give the good citizens of Splott a lightshow. Apparently Torchwood dealt with them in the 60s and they're some kind of energy race with a fondness for pretty coloured lights. I sent them a message and told them politely that humans tend to get antsy when they see flying lights; they think UFOs are going to abduct them or something.

Jack shrugged. "Stranger things have happened." He looked over at Gwen. "Gwen?"

Gwen shook her head. "Sorry, Jack. Nothing new has come up since Tosh found the latest victim. Owen should be finished the autopsy soon, so maybe he'll have something."

"Any idea who he is?" Jack asked, referring to the victim Tosh had found on her way back from the coffee run.

"Barry Yates," Tosh spoke up, enlarging a profile on her computer screen. Jack took a step to his right and leaned over her shoulder as she continued, "Forty-three years old, married with two kids. According to his file, he's had drinking problems on and off since he was a teenager and apparently his drinking problem is on again, as says the missing person's report his wife filed three weeks ago."

"So that makes seven," Jack mused, tilting his head upwards in his classic "thinking pose". "Seven bodies in the last three weeks, all at different stages of decomposition. All killed by a swift jab to the throat."

"Not quite," Owen announced, coming up from the med bay. His white coat had streaks of blood on it and Gwen wrinkled up her nose. Owen rolled his eyes. "It's just a bit of blood, Cooper," he sighed before turning to Jack. "Our latest unfortunate soul–"

"Barry Yates," Tosh supplied helpfully.

"Barry Yates," Owen continued, "has been, by my estimation, dead less than twenty-four hours. All the other bodies were at least a week old before they were found and once the lovely wildlife of Cardiff had got to them . . . well, you all saw it. Yates on the other hand is, to put it crudely, fresh meat."

"Oh cheers, Owen," Gwen grumbled, glaring at the medic. "I was looking forward to lunch, you know."

Owen shrugged, unfazed. "Come and look for yourself. I think you might want to see this."

Jack, Gwen and Tosh all followed Owen down into the med bay where Barry Yates was splayed open on one of the autopsy tables. Gwen winced and Tosh frowned, but Jack merely looked curious and eyed the body critically. There was, as expected, the deep gash on the neck, but that wasn't what Owen was interested in.

"Our friend here may have bleed to death," Owen announced dramatically, gesturing to Jack to join him at the head of the body, "but he was already brain dead beforehand." He pulled a face and pointed to where he'd cut into Barry Yates' head.

"His brain is completely fried," Owen finished. "And I mean fried as in Jack's toast fried. It's as though someone has attached wires directly to the brain and cooked it to death. Look."

Gwen shook her head and looked faintly ill. "I'll take your word for it, thank you very much."

Like Gwen, Tosh didn't seem to be in a hurry to see the fried brain, but Jack on the other hand had joined Owen and was gazing curiously at it.

"Huh," he remarked, scratching his head. "That's . . . different."

"Understatement of the bloody year," Owen grumbled. "And while whatever did this totally fried any kind of brain activity, rendering Yates essentially brain dead, he was still "technically" alive before he bleed out."

Jack nodded slowly. "A brain dead victim is no use to anyone, so you might as well sever his carotid artery."

"Exactly," Owen agreed. "And we didn't pick it up on any of the others because the bodies were too old."

"So what does this all mean?" Gwen asked. "What could cause so much trauma that a brain would fry?"

"Many things, Gwen," Jack replied darkly. "You'd be surprised at how many ways there are to render a brain essentially useless."

"Oh."

They stood in silence for a few moments and gazed at the body of Barry Yates, but thought about the other six victims and what they must have gone through before their deaths. Then Jack clapped his hands sharply, startling the others out of their reverie.

"Right," he announced. "Based on this new information, I want Owen and Tosh to compile a list of the possible ways this could have happened." Owen and Tosh nodded so Jack told Gwen, "And I want you to go through Torchwood's files, the police's files, anything that you can get your hands on to see if this has happened before. Go back to 1800s if you have to."

Gwen nodded and Jack glanced at his team, satisfied. Without another word, he swept out of the med bay with his coat billowing behind him and as he ascended the stairs, Jack yelled, "And somebody please get me a coffee!"

---

Ianto wasn't sure how much time had passed. He had tried calling out, but he was either alone or no one cared that he was making a noise because not a single soul had come to see what the racket was all about. Sighing, Ianto had made his way to the back of the cell and had sat down heavily, pulling his knees to his chest.

And that was how he sat now, an undetermined time later. His head hurt, his hand hurt and he was wearing three day old clothes. Ianto cursed Jack, cursed Torchwood and cursed himself for agreeing to this ridiculous undercover mission in the first place. The others had better be looking for him and planning a rescue, otherwise Ianto might throttle them himself.

But what Ianto was mostly thinking about was why. Why him? Why was this happening? Why did they want him? It had to be connected to their dead homeless people; it was too much of a coincidence to be anything otherwise. Well, actually, Ianto was hoping it was a coincidence because he'd seen the previous victims and he didn't exactly want to end up like them if he could help it.

Ianto started when something clanged in the distance. It sounded like metal hitting metal and there was a strange scraping noise. Footsteps approached and Ianto scrambled to his feet; he could better defend himself standing. Whoever they were had taken his gun, Ianto had checked, so he was on his own. And he'd never been much of a fighter. He was, however, a rather skilled negotiator so with no weapon and no way to defend himself, Ianto took a deep breath and hoped that he could negotiate his way out of this mess.

The footsteps got louder until they finally stopped. Ianto could feel someone's gaze on him so he looked up slowly. He gaped at the figure standing just outside the bars. Ianto opened his mouth and tried to say something, but no words came out. He closed it and tried again. Whoever was standing outside smirked until Ianto managed to say,

"What the hell do you want?"

---

Jack was pacing. Tosh and Owen were at her workstation and Gwen was at her's, but Jack was pacing behind them and making them all lose concentration. They shot each a look and gestured to Gwen. She sighed and pulled away from her computer, eyeing Jack warily.

"Jack?" she asked cautiously. "What's wrong?"

He stopped mid-pace and turned to look his team with a frown on his face. Jack glanced at each of them in turn. "Have any of you heard from Ianto?"

Owen snorted. "That's what's wrong? You're missing your sex toy? Geez, Jack. Didn't you see him this morning or something? Surely you managed a quickie before Ianto left to play make-believe."

Gwen glared at Owen and whacked him on the arm. "Shut it, you." Looking at Jack, she asked, "What's wrong with Ianto?"

"I'm not sure," Jack said slowly, looking faintly worried. "I'm sure it's nothing, but he missed his normal check in."

Owen shrugged. "So? Maybe Teaboy found some homies to spend his time with. Ianto's a big boy, Jack. He can look after himself."

"But he's _Ianto_, Owen," Jack pointed out. "We arranged it so he'd check in at one everyday he was undercover and you know Ianto, he's like clockwork . . . every day on the hour."

"Okay, you have a point," Owen conceded. "But it doesn't mean he's in danger or anything. Ianto probably just forgot. He's only human after all."

"What part of dangerous brain frying killer don't you get, Owen," Jack snapped, narrowing his eyes. "We sent Ianto onto the streets specifically to investigate this and now he's missing."

"We don't know he's missing, Jack," Gwen tried to sooth, but ended up with a fierce glare in return. "Owen's right, Ianto probably just forgot."

"Ianto doesn't forget," Jack protested. "Something's wrong, Gwen, I know it."

"Jack," Owen countered, shaking his head, "just because–"

"Guys," Tosh cut in, swivelling around in her chair. While the others had been arguing, Tosh had being doing a bit of research herself. "Maybe's Jack onto something. What was he wearing, Jack?"

Gwen, Owen and Jack paused. Owen and Gwen gave Tosh questioning looks, but Jack stormed up behind her. "Dark red hoodie, blue jeans; the same thing he was wearing when he left." Jack smiled wistfully. "He was complaining about them this morning. What have you got, Toshiko?"

"A police report," Tosh replied, pulling it to the centre of her screen. "Around ten this morning, the police started getting calls from members of the public saying they'd seen a man matching Ianto's description forced into a car. Witness accounts vary, but . . ."

Tosh brought to the computer the CCTV footage of the area where the man looking like Ianto had disappeared from. She clicked twice and the video footage started to play. It was rough quality, but . . . "Look," Tosh said quietly, pointing at the screen.

She felt Jack stiffen behind her and saw that he was gripping the back of her chair tightly. They watched as a dark car screeched to a halt behind a man who was clearly Ianto in a red hoodie and jeans, and saw him fall limp in their arms before being shoved unceremoniously into the car. But what got their attention was not the actual kidnapping, but the kidnappers themself. On the screen in front of them was the unmistakable outfit of black clothing and a red beret.

"UNIT's got Ianto."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"UNIT? What's UNIT?" Gwen asked, looking confused. She glanced around and saw that Tosh had gone extremely pale, Owen looked angry and Jack, well, Jack was harder to read.

"Unified Intelligence Task Force," Jack replied coolly. "The military equivalent to Torchwood, I guess you could say." His face was blank, devoid of any emotion, but Gwen could see that his knuckles were turning white from gripping Tosh's chair so tightly.

"The military?" Gwen repeated and Jack gave a curt nod. "I don't get it. Why would the military want Ianto?"

Jack smiled humourlessly at her. "That, Gwen Cooper, is the million dollar question."

"Teaboy doesn't have any more cyberbitches stashed anywhere, has he?" Owen asked bluntly, earning glares from the rest of the team. He raised his hands defensively. "I'm just saying. Tell me you weren't thinking it."

Jack narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Instead Gwen spoke up again, musing, "Maybe Owen's on to something. Not Ianto having another, erm, cyberwoman but what if UNIT found out about Lisa or something and arrested him for treason!"

"That's highly unlikely," Tosh responded, and only Jack picked up the slight waver in her voice. "UNIT cannot get into my mainframe." She frowned and looked defiant. "Ever."

"And besides," Jack cut in, "the paperwork for that unfortunate incident is seriously lacking. I've always said paperwork is just a waste of trees. And I couldn't be bothered." But really, the others all knew that it wasn't a lack of Jack not bothering, but rather a Jack wanting to protect a certain office boy.

"Okay, so it's got nothing to do with Lisa then," Gwen said, looking thoughtful. "Revenge, perhaps?"

Owen snorted. "I don't think UNIT's in the habit of abducting people for _revenge_, Gwen. Torchwood London, maybe. But UNIT, really?"

Tosh and Jack exchanged a look that Owen and Gwen missed. Running a hand through his brown hair, Jack finally said, "Right you lot. It's clear that UNIT has Ianto for some reason or another. I want to know why. Tosh – I want you to run diagnostics on the computers. I know we can't be breeched, but I want to make sure. And I want you to cross-reference all the victims against UNIT, including Ianto. Owen and Gwen, you two come up with a list of possible reasons why Ianto was targeted, either for being himself or for being Torchwood. I don't care how bizarre the idea; if you think it, it gets put on the list."

"What about you, Jack?" Gwen asked, wide-eyed. "What are you going to do?"

He looked grimly at her. "I'm going to make some calls."

---

"What the hell do you want?"

It was not the most eloquent of responses, but it was the only thing Ianto found himself being able to say. He recognised the dark uniforms, the red berets and he was beyond bewildered. UNIT? What did UNIT have to do with the missing homeless? As far as he was aware, UNIT wasn't exactly in the habit of abducting people off the street and murdering them.

The two UNIT blokes looked at each other, and Ianto would have almost called their expressions confusion. They started talking quietly to each other and even if Ianto tried to strain his ears, he couldn't make out what the odd pair were saying. What the fuck was up with these guys?

"Um, excuse me," Ianto spoke up, raising his hand as though he was asking permission. "Yes, hello. Hi. This is your prisoner speaking. Would you, perhaps, mind very much telling me what is going on? I appear to be confused. What has UNIT got to do with any of this?"

"UNIT?" The taller of the two officers looked confused and turned to his partner.

The other whacked him on the back of the head and sighed, much to Ianto's bemusement. "He means the shimmer, idiot."

"Oh, right. That." The taller, and younger looking, UNIT officer raised his arm and pressed down on a small, metal bracelet. He flickered like a static-y television and then blinked out of existence, leaving in his place a shorter, orange figure that was very much non-human.

"Right, not UNIT then," Ianto remarked slowly. Aliens. Well, that was very Torchwood.

---

Martha Jones, Medical Officer to the Unified Intelligence Taskforce, was sitting on a hard, plastic chair in UNIT London's headquarters and sipping a coffee when her mobile phone rang. She glanced down, pulled out her phone and noted the ID-caller.

"Hello, Jack," she said cheerfully, raising the phone to her ear.

"Martha Jones, voice of a nightingale," Jack chimed down the other end, though it lacked his normal lustre and charm. Martha knew immediately something was wrong.

"What's up, Jack?" Martha asked, the smile falling from her face. She frowned. "What's wrong?"

Jack sighed heavily from Cardiff and said nothing. Martha got a little worried, because a silent Jack was never a happy Jack. "Jack?" she asked, concerned. "Talk to me."

"Ianto's missing, Martha," Jack said dully and Martha did a double take.

"Ianto? Ianto Jones? Run that by me again."

"Ianto's gone," Jack repeated, this time flatly. "Gone. Vanished. Disappeared." In Cardiff, Jack narrowed his eyes and accused, "And UNIT has him."

"What!? _Excuse me_!?" Martha reacted loudly, attracting the attention of the people around her. She glared at them and lowered her voice. "UNIT, Jack? Seriously? Why would we want Ianto?"

"We have CCTV footage, Martha," Jack replied hollowly. "It's definitely UNIT officers that took him."

"I don't believe it," Martha murmured more to herself, but was overheard by Jack.

"Ask Toshiko if you don't believe me," Jack snapped and Martha felt bewildered, trying to think which one was Toshiko.

"What?" She was confused and dozens of thoughts were racing around in her head, and Martha didn't know what to think.

"Sorry," Jack said, sounding just a tad bit sheepish. "Never mind. But _please_, Martha, I need you to look into it."

"Why?" Martha asked. "Why are you so sure UNIT has Ianto?" Martha didn't believe it, did she?

"I'll send you the footage." Jack's voice had gone hard and Martha winced, feeling bad. Jack wouldn't throw accusations around lightly, so there might be something to it. And besides, if Martha were honest, she trusted Jack a million times more than she would ever trust UNIT.

". . . And I need him, Martha," Jack was saying as Martha finally turned back into the conversation. Jack was speaking softly, painfully and almost desperately, and it nearly broke Martha's heart.

"I can't lose him again, Martha. Not now. I know I'll lose him one day, but not _now_." Jack was desperate, pleading even, and Martha vowed that if UNIT really were involved, she'd bring them down from the inside.

"Jack, shhh, calm down," Martha said gently, calmly. She could tell that Jack was on the verge of panicking. Jack had told her the story of Ianto Jones and what had happened during the Year That Never Was, and like hell was Martha going to let Jack go through that again.

"Just breathe, Jack," Martha instructed, distracted as she thought about which officers owed her favours, how far she could get into the UNIT systems and whether some old friends might be able to help out.

Jack sounded shaky on the other end of the phone and Martha wished she could just reach out and hug him. Instead she settled with saying, "I'll get straight on it. Don't worry, Jack. I'll see what I can do; I promise. I've got some people that owe me favours and there's kinda an old boys' club here when it comes to the Doctor. Leave it with me."

"Thanks, Martha," Jack breathed gratefully, gripping the edge of his desk so tightly that the wood started to cut into his skin.

Martha shrugged. "No worries. Please just stay calm, Jack, and I'll get back to you in a couple of hours. Ianto needs you thinking clearly so that he can have a heroic rescue I know you're so fond of." Martha smiled fondly as Jack laughed a little.

"I'm being silly, aren't I?"

Martha shook her head. "Not silly at all, Jack. You care about Ianto and what happens to him. That's not silly; ever. I'll get back to you."

Jack and Martha said their goodbyes and with a sigh, Martha put her phone away. She stood, leaving her rapidly cooling coffee on the table, and walked out of the canteen. She'd get to the bottom of this, Martha vowed, because Jack really did deserve every good thing in his life.

---

"Listen up!" Jack called from the doorway of his office. His voice echoed throughout the Hub, causing his three agents to look up at him. Toshiko was at her computer while Gwen and Own were clustered around his. "Team meeting in five," Jack declared authoritatively, leaving no room for arguments. "Ianto! I want . . ."

Jack trailed off and frowned as he remembered Ianto wasn't here. Moodily, he stomped back into his office as Tosh, Owen and Gwen gave each other awkward glances but purposely didn't look up at Jack. Gwen sighed and said,

"He's really missing Ianto, isn't he?"

Owen rolled his eyes. "Point out the obvious, Cooper." He eyed Jack's office critically. "He's probably just sexually frustrated because Teaboy hasn't been around to give him a blowjob."

Gwen whacked Owen on the arm. Hard. "They really care about each other," Gwen protested, and Tosh nodded her agreement. "And they're good for each other, I think."

"Yeah. Two fucked-up individuals do not make a right," Owen snorted sarcastically. "Ianto's a good-looking piece of arse in a suit. He's practically Jack's walking wet dream."

"Any one would think you were jealous, Owen," Tosh remarked, surprising herself at how forward she sounded. She had been pretty quiet since the whole Ianto fiasco had started, lost in her own memories of UNIT capture.

"Me jealous of Ianto?" Owen spluttered. "Please. Pull the other one. Ianto can have Captain Innuendo for all I care."

Gwen smirked. "I'm sure Ianto will be pleased to know that, when he gets back."

Owen glared at Gwen, but Tosh saved them from any further argument by pointing out that they should probably gather in the conference room for Jack's team meeting. All three Torchwood operatives collected their information and made their way towards the newly-refurbished conference room.

Jack wasn't there when Tosh, Owen and Gwen stepped inside. Silently, they took their normal seats and waited awkwardly for Jack. All three wondered what kind of mood Jack would be in, hoping that it wasn't one of his dark and broody ones.

Finally, ten minutes later Jack swept into the room and strolled past his team, keeping his eyes directly ahead and didn't look at them as he passed. He stopped at the head of the table and turned to the others, giving them a hard look.

Jack barked, "It better be good." And that officially began the meeting.

After a moment of stunned silence, all three launched into explanations at the same time. Words twisted other words and voices became louder as each tried to top the one before him or her.

Jack whistled sharply, bringing the room to silence once again. He gave each and every one of them a glowering look and they all seemed to shrink in their seats, even Owen who wasn't easily intimidated by their Captain. "One at a time," he told them slowly, and they all knew immediately that he was pissed.

Tosh raised her hand timidly. "I ran diagnostics on all the computers," she explained. "And there is no way UNIT has gotten in. Unless they have upgraded their computers since last week with alien technology from billion years into our future, then there is no way they have superior computers to us."

Jack nodded once. "And the victims?"

"Nothing," Toshiko responded, almost apologetically. "One of the victims did attend infant school with a low-grade UNIT solider, but that's it. Nothing interesting at all that would tie the dead homeless to UNIT. Or Ianto to UNIT, other than the obvious Torchwood-UNIT connection."

"Okay." Jack didn't even applaud Tosh on her good work and that was a sign that something was seriously wrong. He turned to Owen and Gwen. "And?"

"We have a list," Gwen announced, holding up her and Owen's sheet of paper.

"I don't have all day, Gwen," Jack snapped.

"Right." She glanced down. "First we have the Lisa thing. And don't protest because you told us to write down anything and that's a possibility." Jack snapped his mouth shut so Gwen continued, "Next is my revenge idea, though we could not come up with a reason as to why UNIT would want revenge on us. After that we had–"

"Nothing to do with Ianto or Torchwood at all," Owen cut in, snatching the paper from Gwen's hand. "I gave you my autopsy report. Something or someone is frying those brains. Maybe UNIT is conducting illegal human testing and failing badly."

"Okay. What else?"

"Information," Gwen spoke up. "Perhaps they want some information about Torchwood or its employees or some of its tech or something. They either think Ianto is the easiest to get talking, which I think is rubbish because look at the whole Lisa mess, or he presented the first opportunity."

"Grab him off the street," Jack mused.

"Yeah," Gwen nodded. "Or . . ." She eyed Jack warily. ". . . Maybe it's not about forcing Ianto to give information, but rather forcing us, more specifically you, to give information or tech by threatening Ianto."

"It's a possibility," Jack sighed, sitting down heavily. "But I've always thought we had a pretty civil relationship with UNIT, even if we didn't always see eye to eye. I can't imagine . . ." He trailed off.

"We'll get him back," Gwen promised Jack, though she was trying to convince herself as well. "We won't stop until we do. You know that, Jack. We're in this together."

Jack gave her a soft, ironic smile. "I just hope it doesn't bring us all down in the process."

---

The other alien had lost his (though Ianto couldn't be sure he was a he anymore) shimmer as well and now Ianto was studying them intently. They were speaking again, using a language Ianto had to assume was alien. They were both short, orange and had pointed noses, ears and chins. They looked a little dog-like, yet they still looked humanoid-ish. The aliens had no hair whatsoever, but at least they seemed to have eyes and noses and mouths in the positions Ianto was familiar with.

"So," Ianto started conversationally and the pair looked over at him, "you're aliens. I'm not sure if I was expecting this or not." He shrugged and leaned back against the wall, still right at the front of the cell. The pain in his head and his arm had dulled and while it was a hindrance, it wasn't affecting his thought pattern too badly.

The aliens blinked at him so Ianto sighed. "Would you like to tell me why I am here?"

"We know who you are, Ianto Jones," one said, though Ianto didn't know which one.

If that unnerved Ianto, he didn't show it. "May I ask who you are then?" he asked politely. "It's unfair that you know who I am yet I don't know who you are."

"You may call me Rac'ctal," the same one spoke again.

"Rac'ctal," Ianto repeated, getting the pronunciation of the alien name exactly correct. "And your friend?"

"Ba'al," the other replied stiffly, and it was obvious then that Rac'ctal was the one in charge.

"Great," Ianto said cheerfully. "Now that we've introduced ourselves, I think you'll find it common courtesy to tell you prisoner exactly why he's here."

Rac'ctal and Ba'al exchanged glances before Rac'ctal spoke up in flawless English. "We believe that you are – acquainted – with an old friend of ours. I believe you call him Captain Jack Harkness."

Oh great, Ianto thought dryly. Another pair of Jack's alien exes. Fan-fucking-tastic. Wasn't Hart enough? How many more conquests did the immortal Captain have floating in outer space? Ianto really didn't want to know.

"We had some . . . dealings . . . with Captain Harkness awhile ago," Rac'ctal was explaining bitterly. "He sold us something, but that something was not as he said it was." Rac'ctal looked angry. "On our planet, where trade is most sacred, that is punishable by death."

"Oh. Right then. Was he, erm, tried for his _crime_?"

"No," came the curt alien reply.

"So you're here for revenge," Ianto summarised. "What does Jack have to do with the bodies piling up around Cardiff?"

"They were unfortunate accidents," Rac'ctal replied. "And we were not here to get revenge, as you so crudely put it. We are here, actually, to test our newly developed mind probe. I was not – allowed – to test my invention back home, but then Ba'al here told me of Earth and its primitives. A few less on the street and no one will notice." He sighed, almost disappointingly. "Pity we cannot get the trials to work."

"So you killed them?" Ianto's stomach was churning.

"The machine killed them," Rac'ctal corrected him. "As I said, they were an unfortunate accident."

"So what am I? Your next test subject?"

"Perhaps." Rac'ctal grinned and Ianto shivered. It was like the temperature had dropped ten degrees and a gusty chill had seeped across the cell. "Or maybe you, Ianto Jones, are our way into Torchwood and to the good Captain."

Ianto rolled his eyes, though his heart was pounding. He didn't want to die, not now. "Are you going to kill me, then? To get back at Jack and make him suffer?" Ianto smirked. "How very Hollywood of you."

"In time," Rac'ctal replied silkily. "In the mean time . . ." The door of the cell swung open. "What do you think Captain Harkness would prefer? An ear or a finger . . .?"


End file.
